There's a Place
by scuffie
Summary: In 1960, Charles and Millie become friends - how, they don't really know themselves. Two years later, Charles is left alone with Hank in the Mansion, just months after founding the school. What he needs now, is a friend, though he would never tell. Now, guess what... [Set between "First Class" and "Days of Future Past", rated T to be sure, kind of inspired by the 60s]
1. Prologue

**_Oxford, England, around Christmas time 1960_**

„Xavier! Eh, Xavier!"

God, she was tired of following him all over the Campus, but thankfully this time he seemed to have heard her, as he stood and turned around.

„The petition, you wanted to sign it. Plus you forgot this", she breathlessly told the young man and handed him a scarf. He had a interesting face, not stunningly handsome, though not bad looking. It was framed by ordinary brown hair and his nose was a bit too big for her taste but she could not deny that his eyes were incredible. Big and of a blue colour that reminded her of the sky and the sea in equal measures. Especially when he smiled, like now, they got to her in a strange way.

„Thank you, Millie", he said, taking the scarf and signing the paper in her hands.

Then both of them stood in silence, uncomfortable and unsure of what to say.

„I was just about to get lunch", he said after a while „care to join me?"

„Yes", she replied smiling and accompanied him to one of the tiny bistros near Campus.

„You study Journalism, right? Well, except for the basics' course in history?", he asked as they ate chips.

„And English, of course", she answered.

„Of course", he echoed in a strange voice „why of course?"

„I thought you knew. I am from France; an exchange student only."

„Well, if I may say so, your English is quite well. I have never noticed... but then again, Millie is not truly a typical French name, is it?", Xavier wondered.

She had wanted to take a sip of her lemonade, and almost choked when laughing at the last question.

„It isn't, at all. My name is actually Maelys", she answered after having recovered.

„Nice name", he saluted her with the bottle of water in his hands.

„Well, Charles Xavier doesn't sound so bad, either. Could be French, too, you know?"

„It's the 1960's. Guess, anything could be anything by now."

* * *

 ** _A bar, some weeks later in 1961_**

„Millie", Xavier greeted her surprised as soon as he had identified the sobbing woman next to him as the French exchange student. She had stormed into the room (bringing an icy wind with her), sat down at the bar and ordered a wodka shot straight away.

„Hey", Xavier tried it again, as soothingly as he could „Millie. Maelys. What's up?"

He slightly touched her arm only for Millie to shove him off again. Finally she turned to face him. Her auburn curls were a mess and the crying had seen to the rest: black mascara had run down her face, her make-up foundation was disrupted by light streams of her tears and her lipstick was partly worn off.

"Life is bullshit", she said, ordering another shot.

"Don't say that. There are lots of oppertunities", he reached into his pockets in search of a tissue which he thankfully found and handed to her.

"Said the boy who will have become a professor without nearly reaching the age of thirty. So you are smart, but tell me, what does life have in store for you except work?"

He did not answer. Xavier did not want to let this woman, who was obviously devastated, insult his plans, which she would definitely do, once given the chance.

"What happend, Millie?", he asked instead and watched her down the second shot.

"He fucked me up."

"Jim?", he asked, knowing of the long term relationship she had had ever since they had first met "What...did he beat you?"

But just as he had asked her the question he knew. Maybe it would have been better to use his ability from the beginning, rather than stressing her out. On the other hand, talking, so he had been told, can be very helpfull, especially for women.

"Oh no, not that way", she still sobbed a little and motioned for the barkeeper to get her another shot „he slept with Emily."

"I am very sorry to hear", Xavier said, patting her shoulder. And then he knew, he should not. She did not want his pity. Millie wanted a friend, only, and she wanted another drink.

"Stop it, will you?", she asked, whiping the tears away "In the end, it is for the best. As I said he fucked me up. Destroyed me or, better, he made me destroy myself."

"Noone has the right to do that", he nodded and ordered another round of drinks "and don't you ever again try and give yourself up for some guy."

She now even smiled weakly and Xavier answered the smile with a small smirk at his success: "Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

 ** _Summer 1961 , Millie's Farewell Party_**

"So, you promise to stay in touch, Xavier?", Millie asked with a great smile on her lips and sadneess in her eyes.

"Of course, we will", he agreed and took her in his arms „I will write to you as often as possible."

"It will be strange", she said as she hugged him back „to be back home. Please, do not laugh at me if my grammar turns poor after a while."

"I am sure it won't", he said and let go of her.

"Now", she told him and Raven, his friend, who – of course – had been invited, too, „I hope you will take care of one another. And you", she gave Xavier a pointed look „stop drinking so much, man. One day, something important will happen and you will be drunk."

"And yet, perfectly sober I stand before you", he interrupted her and they laughed.

"However. Take care", she smiled one last time and vanished into the crowd of people.

This was the last time Maelys Wibaux and Charles Xavier had seen each other. They started to be pen pals, though, and sent many, quite expensive letters and postcards to each other wherever they were. A year later, Professor Xavier and Raven left Oxford University to work with the CIA...

* * *

 _Ok, so I tried out something different: A X-Men fanfic. I hope you liked the first peak of it! :)_

 _By the way, apologies for my English (and my French) - please don't be afraid of correcting me, it would be very welcome._

 _(It's not my mother tongue, and now that I have left school, I don't know how bad it really is. Though you are fullheartedly invited to guess where I am from - maybe there's a pattern there? Would be interesting...)_

 _However, thanks for reading!_

 _xxx scuffie_


	2. Come Outside

**_November, 1962_**

"Hank! Hank, can you come up for a minute?", Charles yelled and after a moment added „And bring the mail, will you?"

Of course Hank obeyed. It had not been easy for Charles Xavier after all, and at least he did not call him _Beast_.

A week ago, the last students of the School had left and now they were alone. And if one could not cope with the empty house it was Charles. He had been incredibly moody, during the last days, but Hank understood. In fact, noone else was left to even try to understand so Hank just had to.

"Morning, Professor", the blue mutant greeted his friend.

"Good morning", Charles replied from his bed and gestured for Hank to help him into the wheelchair.

"How are things going with the serum you're working on?", Charles, now sitting in his wheelchair, asked casually as they went down the hall towards his office. Hank caught a glimpse of hope, however, even though the Professor did try to seem as relaxed as possible.

"Almost finished. Here's the mail you asked for."

"Thank you", Charles said and quickly went through the letters and postcards.

"Did you also get the newspaper?", the professor asked curiously after he had finished.

Hank nodded as they arrived in the kitchen. He poured his friend a nice warm cup of coffee and handed him the news.

It was just frustrating, the professor thought as he scanned the articles. No new mutants and nothing new of Raven or Magneto. He sighed. But what was even the point of it? Noone seemed to care, so why should he? He did not want to try and establish a school, which noone would visit. It would never work out, anyways.

They had tried before, and then war came and he was left alone with Hank in this big mansion.

This big, empty mansion, in which he would probably spend the rest of his life because he did not have the nerves to go out there, in his wheelchair, where he would hear all of these voices and people would look at him strangely.

In all of this time he had not understood Raven, and now that he was gone.

Why hadn't he been able to before?

God, the noise inside his head.

Hopefully, Hank would not take too long to find the cure. 

* * *

While Charles Xavier tried to face his supposed fate, Maelys Wibaux took her destiny into her own hands. She buttoned up her coat, took her suitcase and followed her mother outside the small house in Créteil:

"I told you, you didn't need to drop me off; it wouldn't bother me at all to take a bus or something."

"Non, non. My daughter visits me so rarely, she might at least give me the joy of bringing her to the airport and make my farewell there. Besides, as I know you, you would only miss your flight."

"Oh, Maman", Maelys rolled her eyes and put her suitcase in the trunk of the small VW her mother drove.

"Are you sure you want to take this job?", Vivianne Wibaux asked her daughter as they left the driveway.

"I have already agreed."

Maelys looked out of the window, taking in France for it would be a long time until she returned.

"Bon", her mother said and the younger woman knew by the sound of her voice that she was not happy with the situation.

"It is a good job", Maelys tried to explain „I will get payed very well, better than now and I get to see more of the world. Isn't this what you have always wanted?"

Vivianne sighed.

"Of course, I did", she said as she maneuvered them through the traffic of the Parisien suburbs.

"So?", Maelys asked, now looking at her mother.

"So, I want you to be happy. It's only that... New York is _a bit_ far away. It was difficult enough when you were in Munich or Praque."

"It doesn't make a real difference, though", Maelys said softly.

Her mother sighed and turned left to the airport:

"I wish you would stay at home", she said as she stopped the car.

She looked at her daughter and Maelys could not ignore that her mother was about to shed some tears:

"Oh Maman, I am 26 years old!", she said, partly laughing, partly soothing "Don't worry."

"You know, I always do", the older woman said, now smiling at her daughter "And I want you to know, ma cherie, that wherever you are, I do love you."

"With all my heart", Maelys added as she smiled and took her mothers hand.

"Qui", Vivianne said "with all my heart."

* * *

It was not the first time, Maelys stept foot in a plane, though it was the first time for her to go overseas. She found her seat quickly and took a book out of her bag before she put it to safety.

Of course reading woud be helpful, as she was so very excited. A bit too excited as she did not even open the book. Instead Maelys thought about the future – All of those possibilities!

Her new job as a correspondant for _Le Monde_ would be a challenge, but one of the good kind and she was truly excited at the prospect of it. Thankfully, her employer had already found a flat for her... or should she say apartment now? Anyways, she would have a great time there, she was sure of it.

Maelys looked at the book in her hands.

It was „The Picture of Dorian Gray", a book Charles had sent to her for her birthday. Inside there was a postcard she now used as a bookmark with a photograph of Oscar Wilde himself on it.

She turned it around and read again the lines her friend had written on it, just as if she would read them for the first time. 

_A truly philosophical piece of literature, I know._

 _Maybe not fitting for a 26th birthday (hopefully, a happy one!) but definitely fitting for the Millie I know._

 _And don't you never wonder about right or wrong?_

It had arrived only two weeks ago, some days after her birthday and she had not had the chance to read it until now.

And now that she did have the time, she did not have the spirits.

"Well, hello", someone pulled her out of her thoughts.

A young man, only some years her elder, sat down next to her. His dark hair was combed back and allowed a free view of his spectacularly blue eyes which belonged to an undeniably handsome but quite serious face.

"Good afternoon, sir", she replied, her English still a bit rusty.

"Going to Idlewild, too?"

"Yes", she smiled.

"You are French, aren't you?", he asked.

"Qui", Maelys replied, a bit taken aback. Was her accent this strong? „You are not."

"No, I am not indeed", he said and relaxed into his seat.

After some moments of silence Maelys had the courage to ask: „Where are you from, then?"

"From nowhere", he answered, a slight smile playing on his lips.

* * *

 ** _About a week later_**

Every day started just like the day before, Xavier thought as he awakened lying in bed.

"Hank", he yelled, his face blank.

"Good morning, Professor."

It seemed just as if Hank had been waiting in the hallway for Charles to wake up. He smiled brightly but...

"Hank, what has happened?", suddenly Xavier was wide awake. His normally blue, furry friend now seemed like a completely ordinary human.

"The serum, Professor", the mutant replied „guess it works."

"Guess so", Xavier mumbled, as he stared at his friend, completely fascinated.

"I made a few adjustments, too. If you take this", he handed the professor a syringe "you should be able to walk again. Though I fear it might effect your abilities..."

"Well, this might be even...better", Charles hesitated but finally injected the serum.

It had occurred to Hank that his friend had some issues, of course; but it seemed only natural to him after what Charles had gone through. He had tried to comfort him, though, even if that might have not worked out quite well. The serum was the least he could do to help the Professor.

He dared not to watch the man reacting to it and turned away towards the window.

It had been cold those last few days; the sky was grey and a bunch of birds were flying south. The trees in the garden had already lost their leaves and Hank wondered once again about the workings of nature, as he thought about how the exact same place had looked only some months ago.

"Well", a familiar voice spoke beside him "it is a strange season, isn't it? Autumn always makes me become so sentimental."

Hank turned to look at Charles and indeed he was standing next to him, looking out of the window.

"I know the feeling. How are you, Professor?", he asked, a little surprised, though he knew he should not be.

"Exceptionally well, thank you."

They exchanged a smile until something startled the once blue mutant:

"Oh, sorry, Professor, I almost forgot. Today's mail."

He handed Charles a pack of letters and postcards.

"Thanks", he said and sat down on his bed. Hank knew he was dismissed now and left quietly.

It was the third letter that got Charles' attention:

 _Dear Charles,_

 _I thank you very much for the book, though I have to admit I don't know when I will have the time to read it. My boss asked me if I wanted to be a correspondant for the newspaper I work for, and now guess where: In New York!_

 _This, of course, means that we have to meet up, no matter if you want to, it's just an order. I will write you again as soon as I have a telephone number and address to give to you._

 _I do hope you will be delighted at the news, though._

 _Isn't it crazy how we were more acquaintances than friends during University? Well, maybe in the end, we were friends. Now, however, I could hardly imagine life without writing to you._

 _Strange, how words can build friendship, even if the addressant is on the other side of the world._

 _My birthday was very nice, by the way, you should have been there! It was a big celebration and even Tom and Margaret came all the way from England._

 _Your card got me thinking, though._

„ _And don't you never wonder about right and wrong?"_

 _A very cryptic remark, my good sir, and most definitely one with a thought behind it._

 _Care to share?_

 _Well, I might as well tell you about my associations with this quote of the incredible Professor Charles Xavier. (You might have heard of him. He is indeed still quite young, but brilliant. The world has not seen the last of him, I am sure.)_

 _Right and Wrong, those are quite classic words, don't you think?_

 _Very black and white, and I have come to notice that our minds often work that way, even if we'd like to think more in shades of grey._

 _It was a pretty tricky question you asked me in the card, especially as it was the time in which I decided to go to New York._

 _And I did think about right or wrong, black and white, pros and cons._

 _Yes, you would not believe it: I made a list._

 _New York won in the end, though it was actually a tie on the list. In the end, I guess the heart decides. Hopefully it was right, in this case. And there we go again: Right._

 _It is hard to define the meaning of the word. It could mean appropriate, correct or proper..._

 _But the answer is easy really: What is wrong for someone might be right for someone else; hence appropriate. Then of course there have things happened which are undeniably wrong: War, murders, abuse._

 _Now we are hitting morals, I guess, and ideals. But don't ideals change with time?_

 _You see, Charles, I most certainly think about right and wrong a lot, in this case though. In the end, I guess, right and wrong are only constructs, each of them a personal, individual one, so everyone has to deal with their ideals themselves._

 _Anyways, I hope you do not think of yourself as a bad person. Maybe you did something wrong, as your above question suggests. But perhaps you only think it was wrong in hindsight? Or you think it was wrong and in hindsight it will prove it actually was the right thing?_

 _In any case, I know you are good; your heart is._

 _Please write soon!_

 _I hope you are well,_

 _Lots of love_

 _Millie_

Charles smiled. Of course she had noticed and of course she did care. The oh so long discussion of right and wrong was typical, Millie always analysed his every word, but often enough this was exactly what he needed.

* * *

 _Title inspired by the song by Mike Sarne (1962). Hope you liked it!_


	3. Don't Hang Up

Maelys had just come home from a wonderful evening she had spend with the man from the plane. He had introduced himself as Erik, which Maelys deemed as a nice enough name. They had gotten on well from the beginning and his smile was truly charming.

She turned on the radio and danced through her small flat – it had been a long time since a guy had asked her out. It was past eleven already, but Maelys was not tired at all, so she decided to tidy up a little and relive the evening in her memory.

He had fetched her at six and taken her to an incredibly beautiful Italian restaurant just around the block. Maelys could not help but smile, as she thought about how they had clinked glasses of red wine and he complimented her on her looks.

God, of course she was aware how incredibly cliché all of this was, and how cheesy of her to recall all of this while doing the dishes.

After all, nothing had happened, except a quick kiss on the cheek, but he had asked her out again, which she, naturally, wholeheartedly accepted.

She had stayed up late, but thankfully it was a Saturday and she did not have any plans. Stretching, she got out of her bed and into the tiny bathroom, merely consisting of tub, toilet and basin. While brushing her teeth, Maelys let water into the tub – taking a nice warm bath was the best way of starting into a November day, especially if it seemed as cold and uninviting as this one.

It would not take her much longer to finish „The Picture of Dorian Gray", so she decided to read a little further while waiting for the bath. The novel was incredibly philosophical, Charles had been right. Its way of describing how everything, you've done in your life, would one day hit you right in the face...

Of course, Dorian Gray was not supposed to be liked, his purpose was to show only bad qualities, but somehow Maelys had come to build some sympathy for the character.

Well, in the end he really tried to change, only to fuck things up even more, and this was the most human trait, she could imagine.

At least from what she had experienced.

She just felt like... –- _Oh for fuck's sake_ , she mentally swore as she heard the phone ring.

As quickly as possible she turned off the water, put down the book and threw on her bathrobe as she speeded towards the phone.

"Hello?", she answered it, trying not to sound out of breath "This is Maelys Wibaux."

"So you go by your real name now", a amused voice replied.

"Who is this?", she asked a bit confused.

"Sorry, Millie. It's me, Charles Xavier."

"Oh, well, hello there, Professor", she smiled broadly "how are we doing?"

"We are doing fine, indeed", he tried to sound a bit snobbish, but failed because of his need to laugh.

"Took you quite a time to call", she jested but seemingly hit a soft spot.

"I know, I am so sorry", Charles apologised immediately "it's been almost a week since I got your letter."

"Hey, no need for that", Maelys grinned and sat down on the sofa next to the phone.

"I am glad you like the U.S., however", he changed the topic to the content of her letter.

"You won't believe me, how glad I am."

"Well, it is definitely neither Oxford nor Paris."

"True, true. I miss both and yet neither. New York is truly amazing."

"The State of Opportunities", he smiled.

"No joking", she aggreed "it is. I am just about to finish your book, by the way."

"You like it?", he asked after a second.

"Yeah, guess so. Strangely, I have come to enjoy Dorian Gray's character, though I guess it won't end nicely with him."

"I don't say a word. It's interesting, though, isn't it?"

"Fascinating is what I would choose to describe it. The only thing I've ever read written by Wilde, you know? I have seen his grave, though."

"He's buried in Paris, isn't he? But, my dear Millie, I am rather shocked by this confession."

"Hey, I have always wanted to watch _The Importance of Being Ernest_ , it is a great play from what I have heard."

"I will take you, one day", he promised.

"Oi, is that a date request?", she joked and could hear his laughter from the other end of the line.

"Never, dear. Could you imagine that?"

"Hell no", Maelys said, thinking about Erik.

"I would be glad, however, to see your beautiful face again", he jokingly flirted.

"Let's just meet up", she suggested but Xavier refused.

"Sadly, it's not that easy, at the moment, at least", he explained "I haven't been in the City for years, and actually I just can't go there. But you could come here. Do you have a car?"

"No, sorry, I don't", she shrugged "I would love to see your house, though. This is where you grew up, right?"

* * *

"Yes", he said "this is where I grew up."

Charles sat on his bed, the telephone on his lap and his back pushed up against the wall.

How could he help her? It was not an option for him to leave here, at least not now. He did not feel safe outside.

"How far is it from the City to your home?", Charles had asked, just as Hank walked by his door – which enlighted him:

"Wait, Millie, I got an idea. I have a friend who goes to town frequently, to get stuff for his research. He lives with me and could easily take you here."

"Oh, très bien! That sounds wonderful", she smiled happily, he could almost hear it "though I need to get home again, too."

Within this one sentence her voice lost all of its elation.

"You have a bank holiday on Christmas, right?" Of course, he did already have a solution. What? He liked her. Christmas would be nice to be celebrated with more people at the Mansion than him and Hank? Additionally, he was sure that Hank would need new ingredients for his research after three or four days.

"Christmas with you? This would be awesome", she cheered as he heard a distant ring.

"Oh, I am sorry, Charles, someone's at the door. Now, quick, give me your number; I will call you."

"Promise?", he asked.

"Promise."

* * *

God, what now? Had destiny decided against her taking a bath? This was just cruel.

Maelys tightened the robe and opened the door, only to see her boss's assistant standing there with a pack of paper:

"Cole wants you to read this", the young woman with glasses and fashionable short hair handed her the pages without bothering to greet her first.

"Until...?", Maelys asked.

"Well, until Monday, of course. That is, at least, when we will need the article about it."

"What is it?" She looked at the pack curiously.

"Some manifest or something. Don't know, don't care. This is your job", the woman snapped.

Good Lord Jesus, Maelys thought, the doll was not even her age. How could she be so tense?

"Allright", she said and simply shut the door in front of the assistant, without bothering to say good bye.

She sat down on the floor leaning against the door, taking in a deep breath. Curiously, she took a closer look at the pages in her hands, which were neatly covered in typewriter letters, and the headline suggested that she would read a work about mutation.

"Fascinating", she smiled at the paper, until something else caught her eye.

A small note in the very corner of the first page: _Professor Charles Xavier_

"No way", she laughed. This just couldn't be true!

Allright, Maelys thought, now she would have to call him earlier than expected.

* * *

With a bit of help from the author himself, her article about Charles's piece of work was ready to be handed in on time and her boss seemed quite content with it.

This evening, Maelys had planned on another date with Erik but figured she had enough time to phone Charles and tell her about this small, but still welcome success.

Of course, they did not only talk work, and time was forgotten soon.

It was half past six as they hung up after about an hour of talking, and Maelys realised that she would have to hurry to meet her date on time.

Quickly she brushed her hair, pinned it up and put on the nice pillbox hat she had just bought, which perfectly matched her coat.

Maybe, she thought, she would get one of those nice, short haircuts.

Would Erik like it, though?

She would ask him, Maelys decided, and left the flat.

* * *

He looked gorgeous, even better than when they had first met. Still, all of his clothes were black, which gave him the aura of something mysterious and intriguing.

"So, what are we doing tonight?", Maelys asked.

"It's Monday, we could go to the movies", Erik proposed "well, maybe get something edible before."

"That would be nice, I am starving", she laughed as they walked down the street.

Soon they setteled for a small Irish Pub.

"Tell me about your weekend", he asked after they had ordered.

"Oh, there's not much to tell. Renewed some old contacts... and I wrote this crazy good article, you should read it."

"About what?", he asked interested.

"Mutations. But not like ordinary one's; well, those, too, but good Lord, the topic is so exciting!", she said "I never really understood them, you know? Until now, that is."

"Sounds extraordinary", his eyes suddenly seemed to sparkle with excitement "I would love to read it!"

"Well, they will print it in the next edition of _Le Monde_... Though you probably don't speak French", Maelys shrugged and lit a cigarette.

"Don't underestimate me, Miss", he jokingly scolded her "indeed I like to think that my knowledge of the language in question is quite agreeable."

"OK, let's make a deal then. You will read it and afterwards, we will have dinner and discuss the matter - in French. If I was wrong, and you can keep up with a native speaker, I will pay. If not, it's your treat."

"Needless to say, today is my treat", he grinned and started to smoke a cigarette himself "as you have proven yourself worthy of conversing with native speakers."

"You are not American, though", she noted.

"I could just as well be", he shrugged and Maelys could not disagree "I was wondering, though, how you had developed such profound English skills."

"Oh, it's nothing, really. I was just lucky enought to have the opportunity of studying at Oxford University."

Erik whistled softly: "Well, that's some kind of luck."

"I guess so. Though, I was better back then."

"Back then... It's impossible that you should have left university more than three years ago, yet you sound like an old woman remembering things that have happened twenty years ago."

"Maybe... maybe it feels a bit like it's been centuries ago, you know? There have happened so many things in between."

"Indeed, I guess so. How does a French girl move from Paris to Oxford, then back to Paris only to go overseas and live in New York?", he asked, smiling at her in a very open and interested way that made Maelys feel very comfortable "Tell me your story."

"The story of my life in such a short time? Well, the short version is, that I got the chance of travelling and I took it. I did not go straight back to Paris, though, after I had finished my studies at Oxford I went to Praque and Munich to see a bit more of the world and to write some travelling advice articles."

"Those are beautiful cities", Erik nodded.

"You were there?", she asked, surprised.

"Yes. I have been in many countries. Guess, I am not really the stay-at-home-type", he laughed.

"Well", she joined in on his laughter „Then, I would say, we have something in common."

* * *

It was late already, when Maelys returned home. She took of her pillbox hat and the perfectly matching coat and sat down on the sofa.

What now?, she wondered, as she layed eyes on the telephone. Maybe Charles was still awake?

* * *

 _Title inspired by The Orlons, 1962. Reviews? For better, for worse I will read them all._


	4. Up On The Roof

**_December, 24th, 1962, late afternoon_**

As time had gone by by, Erik and Maelys had developed a very close and loving relationship, who would have thought?

Wondering, Erik Lehnsherr stood in his apartment, a glass of Scotch in his hand, and looked out of the window. New York in Winter was hectic, loud and annoying, yet still intriguing as always. His apartement was near Central Park and, even though it was cold outside, people went for walks or jogging or even played a little football. Those small, careless humans down there. They would never know...

And neither would Maelys, he thought to himself.

Never had he dreamed of loving such an ordinary person, yet he felt like... well, he felt like she meant more to him than he initially had wanted.

So much about _"Mutant and proud."_ , he thought bitterly – would he allow one girl to change everything he had worked and hoped for? No, of course, he would not. He _could_ not.

A mutant was what he was, a fact, which would never change. So, if Maelys and he were to stay together he had to... But why was he so reluctant of showing her his powers? He had never been bothered by this before.

The door bell rang and Erik got to it quickly:

"Hello", he smiled at the visitor "glad you came."

Maelys gave him a quick kiss and laughed lightly: "You sure knew I would take this chance to finally see your flat... I think you have hidden it for too long – didn't even know you lived here. Wow!"

He let her in and the girl stepped into the living room.

"Well, it's great you like it..."

"I like it?", she laughed surprised and obviously enjoying the interieur of his apartment: "I guess, it's allright... Y ou a millionaire or something?", she looked at him warily.

Erik did not really want to answer that question; they had, until now, not talked about how he made his living. And criminality was not really Maelys's thing.

„Do you want something to drink?", he quickly reacted and lead her towards the bar "Gin or Scotch, or maybe..."

"Gin Tonic would be great", Maelys said and took a seat on the big, grey leather sofa.

Compared to her own flat, this one was almost clinically cold decorated, but still rather stylish, with some colourful accents.

"I wanted to thank you for dinner, last week", Erik grinned and handed her the glass.

"It was a deal", she shrugged "admittedly, your French is excellent. Where did you learn it?"

"Kind of an autodidact. I don't like visiting a country without speaking the language."

"Oh...", Maelys did not know what to reply and, therefore, took a sip instead.

She knew, he had been to many countries – did he know all of those languages? Maelys herself had always been rather proud of her language skills, which, besides French, of course, contained fluent English and German and not-so-fluent Spanish and very little Italian.

If Erik spoke all of those languages, there would be at least ten, judging by his stories of travels, as well as he did speak French she would be so embarrassed because of her pride.

"Anyways", Erik said and sat down next to her "I am glad to have you here."

He touched her cheek softly and bent down to kiss her quickly.

Maelys noticed how she was slowly falling for this intriguing man who had yet done nothing if not behaved caring and loving towards her, and additionally, she felt a light blush creep up her neck.

"I... I", she stuttered as she pulled away "I... I am sorry", she could not help a slight laugh "I am glad to see you, too."

She layed her hand on his chest: "I wanted to say good-bye... Let me just get..."

Turning away she got hold of her handbag and took a neatly wrapped small package out of it:

"...your present."

Erik tried not to look too surprised - when had been the last time something had gotten a christmas gift; any gift for that matter? Must have been years ago. A whole life ago.

"Thank you", he smiled a little and turned the little package in his hands.

"Come on, open it", Maelys grinned brightly.

Now it was his time to stutter: "I...I am sorry, I'm not used to..."

"Oh, now", she laughed "please! Wait, are you blushing?"

"Actually, I'm Jewish... and today isn't even..."

"Tomorrow is Christmas, and I won't be there to spend theday with you – and nevermind your religion. Don't take it as a Christmas gift, but a present; just a present."

"Allright", he laughed "allright."

He opened it and held a book in his hands.

" _The Picture Of Dorian Gray"_ , he laughed "oh, well."

"You should read it", she smiled "it's almost as serious as you are...mostly. But still incredible."

"Like me?", he jested and they laughed before turning quiet.

"Thanks a lot", he broke the silence and kissed her.

After breaking apart Erik added: "I wish I had something for you, too."

"Oh, nevermind", Maelys smiled, "I'll just take another one of those..."

* * *

About an hour later – the couple had talked about this and that in quite equal measures – Erik accompanied her to the door.

"It's kinda sad we won't be able to meet for a week", Maelys chewed on her lips "I will miss you."

There, she had said it.

Erik smiled, just as brightly as he had done before today ( _How often would she manage to make him light up like this? Hopefully, very often._ )

"Ditto...You're sure you will be safe? Don't feel well letting you run off to some stranger..."

"I've known him for years. He's great." _Two years, at least. Oh well, still good enough._

"Well, you never know."

"I do", she smiled and kissed him another time "I will see you next week."

"Stay safe, yes?"

Maelys still saw how uncomfortable he felt, even though he obviously tried to hide his emotions, as he had done often times before.

"Of course, I will. Now, I seriously have to leave – this guy is picking me up and taking me to Charles's place..."

"Charles?", Erik sounded surprised, though not really delighted "Your friend, Charles?"

"Yeah, that's his name. Never mentioned it, did I?", she asked and caught the look in his eyes "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, no, I'm sorry", he tried to laugh it off, but Maelys remained wary.

"You sure?"

"Yes, it's fine. Have a nice time", he kissed her cheek and, by doing that, kind of motioned for her to leave.

* * *

Indeed, a car was waiting for Maelys just around the corner, at one end of the Central Park.

The young, seemingly quite nervous driver had short, black hair, a lean stature and a big pair of glasses on his nose; as soon as he saw her, he stepped forward:

"Miss.. Miss Millie?", he asked stuttering and adjusted his glasses.

"Yes, Millie Wibaux", she held out her hand for him to shake.

"Hank McCoy, nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine", Maelys smiled. The boy was some years younger, maybe in his early twenties and even though they had not exchanged many words yet, she was sure she would like him. Maybe the fact, that he had called her by that old nickname, which was, of course, Charles's doing, reinforced this attitude.

"I'm sorry, if you have waited for me, Hank, especially in this cold", Maelys said as she sat down in the car, while the man held the door open for her.

"Oh, no, don't be. You were exactly on time. I was a little early. Anyways, it didn't bother me at all."

He closed the door and a moment afterwards sat in the driver's seat next to her.

"So, you are living with Charles?", Maelys asked after a while.

"Yes, for about...half a year now. A little longer, maybe."

"You like it?"

"Quite. He can be a bit of a diva sometimes, but he's my friend, so..."

"Yeah", Maelys agreed with a small smile "I see."

"You two have not seen each other for quite some time, right?", Hank asked as they left the city.

Maelys looked out of the window, fascinated by all of those lights.

"For quite some time", she nodded "Have to admit, I am a little nervous."

Much to her surprise, the young man laughed: "Be assured: You're not alone there."

Curiously, Maelys looked at him but decided not toquestion him any further. She would probably know soon enough.

* * *

Indeed, Charles Xavier could not help but walking around the house, checking every room twice before Millie's arrival. Was the kitchen clean? The bathroom? Was the dinner table set properly? Had the maid changed the covers of Millie's bed?

His housekeeper, who was cooking dinner, had not let him into the kitchen since lunchtime; she said he was driving her crazy.

With a deep breath, Charles took a seat in the living room.

Hopefully, Millie would like it here. Could he call her Millie? The thought had not yet crossed his mind. She had been introduced to him as Millie, but now she had called herself Maelys, which was, in fact, her real name. Would it bother her, if he called her by that old nickname? But if he didn't, would she feel unwelcome? Calling her Millie was part of their history; and a name was something so personal and important...

A sound awakened Charles from his thoughts. The front door had been opened and he could hear Hank's voice:

"So... this is it. I—I can just take your coat if you..."

There was the sound of someone handling some kind of clothing interrupted by Millie's light laughter. Dear Lord, she sounded exactly the same...

 _Of course, she does, Xavier_ , the Professor scolded himself, _it's been two years. People don't change_ _ **that**_ _much in two years._

"Thank you, Hank", the female voice said now. Yes, definitely Millie.

Next thing Charles noticed were steps towards the living room he was in.

Quickly he got up from his seat and made sure there were no crinkles in his suit; quick enough to have finished by the time Hank opened the door.

And there she was.

* * *

 _Title inspired by The Drifters, 1962. Please, tell me what you think! (Kind of strange, writing a Christmas chapter in June, but oh well...)_


	5. Dear Lady Twist

Erik was sitting in his living room, brooding over a glass of Scotch. He could not even sort out what was bothering him the most, but everything was connected to Maelys in one way or another.

He did not know, if he should tell her about his mutation, and, for that matter, if he would, he did not know how. Additionally, there was Maelys herself and his slight idea that she was somehow connected with mutations or even with Charles Xavier. How could he get behind those strange things? She had written an article about mutation, about Charles' work. Well, that could be coincidence, but now she was visiting some guy called Charles. What are the chances?, he thought. It was not like Charles was a very special and uncommon name – but he could not let loose of this feeling. By the by: Feelings. What exactly did he feel for her? Why was he, admittedly, _sad_ that they couldn't meet for a week? Why did she feel so special?

Erik sighed, emptied the glass and took the book from the little table next to the sofa.

 _The Picture of Dorian Gray._

* * *

The brightest smile on her face that Charles had ever behold, Maelys entered the room. She looked astonishing; her auburn hair pinned up in a traditional fashion, wearing a very modern short green dress with colourful tights beneath, but it was her eyes that caught his attention, those friendly, warm eyes that made him feel so much in comfort.

"Charles", she took both of his hands and kissed his cheek "Thank you so much, for having me. You couldn't believe how happy I am to see you."

"I can, Millie", he smiled "truly. I can see it in your face. And believe me, when I say: I could not imagine a guest I would rather have."

"Your home is beautiful", Maelys said, while taking a seat on the sofa facing him. Then she snorted: "Spoiled little boy."

Xavier laughed, for the first time in a long while. This was so year 1960. This was so Millie.

And since this was so "Oxfordian" to him, he had to ask her in his best teacher's voice, if she had finally finished reading her birthday present.

"Of course, I have. And I felt myself falling in love with that novel. It's a shame Oscar was gay. His style and sense of humour were quite striking."

"Oh, you and him are already doing first names?"

"Yeah, he was quite smitten when I told him about my love for his work."

"I guess, it could affect your relationship with _Oscar_ to know, that he is, indeed, dead as a man can be."

"Oh, not at all. He and I agree that both love and imagination can eventually overcome death."

Grinning, she leaned back into the soft cover of the couch.

Charles could not help but to smile either and stood to get some aperetifs.

"Gin Tonic, as always?", he asked Mille, while preparing himself a glass of the most ancient Scotch he owned.

"As always", she nodded, a bit lost in thoughts now. Was this just like back in Oxford? Or had they changed much more? What had they even acted like in Oxford? Should she just forget about their time at university and enjoy the day? Probably, yeah. And at least conversation was fine, so far. But now, there was this break and nobody talked. Should she say something or wait for him? And would there be more of this awfull silence?

But the silence was broken by Charles handing her a glass Gin Tonic, before she could keep on thinking about the not so distant future of this evening.

"I am still a bit envious", he said with a little pout "that you have seen all of those countries."

"That's the nice thing about Europe. If I leave Paris and want to drive to Amsterdam, it would take me around six, maybe seven hours and I would drive through the whole country of Belgium. But in the U.S., after six hours I'd still be in the U.S."

"Well, from New York you could get to Quebec in less than ten hours, actually, so..."

"Okok", she laughed "I'll give you that. But in Europe I could see four different countries in that time."

"Then get back there", he rolled his eyes but grinned anyways.

She sighed and stroke over the fabric of the sofa: "No. No, I think I'll stay."

"You are very welcome to", Charles smiled and his blue eyes lit up like a summer sky.

* * *

Erik Lehnsherr did not hear the door open but he did notice Raven, before she stepped into the living room. He was sitting on his couch thinking about nothing, really. Putting down his glass of Scotch in front of him he offered Raven a seat: "Knew, you'd come here. Christmas is a sad time to hang around all alone, huh?"

"It is", Raven said, changing her form from a young girl with blonde hair to her true blue self.

"But you never show it", she added as she bent down to the bar.

"I hang around alone all the time. The trick is, not to care."

"Well", Raven made herself a glass of Gin „I have heard tales, rumours, that you do care now."

"I..care?", Erik asked, raising an eyebrow.

"About a girl. What's her name again?", Raven slided onto the sofa, right next to him, and took a sip of the Gin.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, I bet you do. A human, huh?", She tututted disapprovingly, just as if she was scolding a child.

Erik rolled his eyes: !I don't see how any of this should concern you in the smallest way."

"Sure you don't. Magneto, seeing himself falling for a human, doing nothing to stop this from happening", Raven laughed and shook her head "This is too ironic not to be funny."

"I am not falling for a human", Eric stood and walked towards the window to look down at Central Park.

"Yeah. Whatever", Raven stood next to him "It's a bit depressing, you know. I can't stop wondering what she has that I don't. For sure, she doesn't have my looks."

"If I could tell you", Erik said and sighed "I would be so glad."

"Why are you with her, then?", Raven leaned towards him, softening her voice.

"She's special", Erik shrugged "She's different. How I can't tell you, she just _is._ "

* * *

It was the next morning, the first day of Christmas and Maelys woke up hungover. They had had a wonderful evening, remembering the past and talking about the future; it had been almost like their time back in Oxford. Still, Maelys could not help but to notice differences, and most of them, though not that big, bothered her more than they should.

Those short pauses of awkwardness in the middle of their conversation. The jokes, about they laughed – but the laughter faded into nowhere. The discussions with Charles, which were not as heated as before due to Charles giving in way to early. Charles's behaviour was strange, anyways. So different, so much more different than two years ago. When he thought, she did not notice, he seemed broken, and tired. And old, too.

She did not even care why he had changed, but Maelys knew, she would try her everything to help him get better again.

Oh, her head. She should not have drunken so much wine after dinner.

The alarm clock on the small table beside the bed told her, it was already nine, which meant she really had to get up. Her mind was set on spending as much time with Charles, as possible.

Stretching, she got out of her bed and into the bathroom, drinking some water from the tab to soften her headache. As she stood up tall again, she looked in the mirror and – her hair was... GREEN?

Goddamnit, she thought. That had not happened to her since she had been a teenager.

She told herself not to panic and to just procede with her morining rituals. After she got dressed she decided that a pillbox hat might be sufficient to cover the colour, if she pinned up her hair very well, and, of course, if she stayed outside the whole day, so she could keep the hat on. Maybe, this afternoon her hair would have turned back to auburn again.

While she followed that plan and hid her hair, Maelys finally had the nerves to wonder why this had happened now, after all those years. What had changed?

* * *

Around the same time, Charles sat in his room, staring at the needle in his hand. He hated himself for taking the serum, but nevertheless, he loved his _medication_. He could walk, he could relax and he could be his old self. The Charles Xavier, Millie had gotten to know two years ago, and did he not owe her that? She had come to see her old friend, and not a mutant wreck of a person.

Additionally, he had never really liked reading her mind and as their friendship had grown closer he had tried to stop it completely when he was with her, but that was more complicated than it should have been, as he always _wanted_ to know exactly what she thought. With Raven it had never been like this; she had told him almost all the time what was on her mind, and for him it was enough, that she had known he was there for her. Millie, on the other hand, did not trust him the same way Raven did, which could be partly because of the fact, that they'd not grown up together but merely known each other for some months, and partly because her character forbade her to make her thoughts centre of a conversation. So, naturally, he had become curious as to what was on her mind.

Now, he did not have to restrain himself from crossing the boundary of reading her private thoughts; which was a good thing.

Right?

Of course, now it was more difficult for him to _get her_ , but in the end she should be allowed that privacy.

* * *

It stinged a bit, it always did. But Charles had forgotten about his injection as soon as he saw Millie standing in the hallway. She wore a light blue coat and a pillbox hat of the same colour, and was just putting on some nice brown leather gloves. As he slowly walked down the stairs she turned around and smiled at him.

"You always told me about the woods near your home, so I thought, I'd take a look at them. Care to join me and show what you've got?", she winked at him with the cutest grimasse of a grin.

 _Cute?_ , Xaviers thoughts stopped for a moment, but he shook it off in just a second: He had always found her to be a very goodlooking young woman, and it had never before gotten in his way.

"Of course, I'll join you, dear Millie", he smiled and took his jacket off a hook.

"Lovely", she said happily.

He offered her his arm and together they went outside.

While they were strolling through the woods, everything felt exactly like it had two years ago.

They talked - about what, they would not even remember themselves for five minutes but they enjoyed each other's company. But, as it was December, they felt the cold creeping through their jackets, gloves and hats, and so, after an hour the tete-a-tete came to an end, as the freezing friends finally returned to the mansion, where Hank awaited them and greeted Charles with the words:

"Professer, I think you should take a look at the mail. It's pretty urgent."

Charles raised an eyebrow but nodded nevertheless and went to his study without even bothering to take off his scarf or gloves.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Millie", Hank smiled a bit nervously and pushed his glasses a bit back on his nose.

"Oh, no problem, Hank", Millie replied and laughed a little.

"Can I take your jacket?"

"Thank's a lot", she handed him her coat and losened the needles that held her hat on top of her head. Of course, she had completely forgotten, what mess she wanted to hide with that lightblue pillbox hat and when Hank turned around now, a woman with intense, green hair stood in front of him.

"Miss Millie?", his eyes widened. Could it be?

"Hank?", she asked, unaware of her looks.

"I...I am so sorry, but wasn't your hair more...brownish yesterday?"

"Wha...?", she caught a strand of her hair and took a glimpse of it, which lead to a slight shock. She had completely forgotten about this... Quickly she put the hat back where it belonged.

"Oh", Maelys said as she had calmed down a little "that stuff sometimes happens with me. My hair changes his colour sometimes... hasn't happened in a long time now, though."

"Would you... would you maybe like to join me in my laboratory so I can take a look at it?"

"Oh, that's so sweet of you, Hank, but I think it's hardly needed. I'm completely healthy, after all."

"Well, I thought maybe", he seemed to grow a bit more nervous again "maybe there's something else off with you. I could check you up, you know?"

"Thanks", she smiled and paused a little before adding „Well, maybe there's actually a question you could help me with...", she fiddled around with the gloves in her hands "You know I wrote that article about Charles' work, right?"

Hank nodded.

"It kind of got me thinking. You... you don't think I am a... mutant?", she said, raising an eyebrow and for the glimpse of a second, Hank could see, how vulnerable Maelys actually was, even though she had put up a wall of politness and humour around her.

"Well, Charles is the expert for these kind of..."

"I'm not really sure, I want him to know", she sighed.

If someone would be able to handle her being such a strange creature, it was definitely Charles. That was something she was pretty sure of – only, how sure could she be? Who would guarantee her, that he wouldn't make a lab-rat out of her?

She scolded herself for even thinking of her friend in such a bad manner: He was, after all, one of the loveliest and nicest men she knew.

"I do know a little bit about mutations", Hank said humbly and adjusted his glasses.

"Mutations?", echoed Charles, who had just come back into the hallway.

"Yes", Maelys smiled as confidently as possible and shot a quick but warning glance in Hank's direction "I've just told Hank that my boss liked my article on mutations so much, he wants me to write another one."

"That's great news!", Charles beamed „But why didn't you just come straight to me? I have so many books you definitely should read... uhm, Hank", he said, completely ignoring the slightly annoyed look Hank was giving Maelys, and handed him a letter with some notes on the envelope "please take care of this, thank you."

And so he already took off again to the study, with Millie on his heels.

"You really don't have to do that, Charles", she said, smiling a little about how genuinely happy he seemed with her success.

"Please let me, Millie. I'm glad to help."

They reached the study and he immediately began to get books from the shelves, forming different staples, moving them around, probably sorted by topic or in chronological order, but somehow Millie knew, if she didn't tell him now, she never would.

"Charles...", she said, slowly and carefully about which words to choose.

"Yes?", he said, barely looking up from the books in his hands.

"Charles", she took a step towards him "I... I should be honest with you...I'm not writing another article."

He stopped and layed the books on his desk.

"I...I was talking to Hank because..."

She took of her pillbox hat, this time fully knowing of the effect her hair would have, and closed her eyes. Maelys did not want to see his reaction. All she wanted to hear was an explanation or some nice words, but there was nothing. Slowly she opened an eye and saw standing him right in front of her now. His hand reached out to her hair and finally caught a green strand between his fingers.

"Green suits you well", he smiled and somehow his blue eyes light up, just like Millie had always noticed back when they were students. Suddenly she grinned like an idiot. His fingers stroke the strand back and his thumb was now free to touch her cheek.

Getting out of the trance she was in, she slightly shook her head. _Oh, Charles, please don't,_ she thought _there's still Erik there..._

Now he did something strange: His index- and his middlefinger were put against her temple and he seemed to concentrate, even closed his eyes.

The magic was gone now, and Maelys waited carefully, but nothing happened. He opened his eyes again and sighed.

"I am very sorry, Millie", he said and turned around, putting the books back to their places of origin.

"Please, don't be", she could sense something was off. Was it about her? Did she do anything wrong? For a moment, there seemed to be going on more than just friendship... Was he in...? No, he couldn't be. They had not seen each other for such a long time! But she had to admit, at least in her mind there always had been a strange fascination with Charles Xavier and those stunningly blue eyes.

"Why would you be sorry, though?", she asked, softly and very carefully.

He turned around, leaning against his desk and took a deep breath:

"Of course, you want me to tell you now about your mutation, but..."

"Wo-ho, wait a second there, cowboy", Maelys said, a bit too loudly, and raised an eyebrow "Are you telling me, I am a mutant?"

"Yeah", he said "that's exactly what... wait, what's up?"

Millie had taken some steps backwards and let herself fallen against the wall. She was breathing heavily. As quickly, as he could, Charles was standing beside her: „Are you allright?", he asked and then scolded himself: Dumbass, of course she isn't. If she doesn't calm down, she'll hyperventilate.

"Calm down", he stroke her arm "it's fine, really. A lot of people are mutants. Shh", he said and smiled a little „It's nothing bad, you know? Look at me", he added and she tried to focus on his eyes. Those eyes that had haunted her for the past few years. Slowly, her breath paced down to normal.

"I have never seen a mutation like this", Charles dared to speak after a while "does your hair colour change often?"

"Not really, no. It hasn't in years...", she sighed.

"Maybe something has triggered it... I wish I could..."

He let the end of the sentence slide into nowhere, which made Maelys watch him intensely. What was going on with him now?

"Hank! Hank", Professor Charles Xavier, as he walked into the laboratory.

"Yes?", the younger mutant looked up and adjusted his glasses.

"We... no, I... I need to stop taking the serum", the professor said, forcefully.

„Are you sure?"

"I need to help her", he sighed "and I just cannot do that like this."

"Well, you can stop anytime", Hank shrugged "if you are absolutely sure?"

* * *

 _Title inspired by Gary U.S. Bonds, 1962. Just in time for christmas - I hope all of you had and still have awesome holidays! Reviews are always welcome._


End file.
